What Cannot Be Undone
by Tainted Wicked
Summary: James Potter's life is turned upside down when he is attacked by an unknown assailant. The aftermath of the attack threatens to destroy him, and leads him to a desperate decision. WARNING: non-con, MPreg, Sirius/James slash, James/Lily. Complete.


James was used to hangovers. How many times had he and Sirius woken up just like this -- passed out on the floor among empty butterbeer bottles, after a post-Quidditch celebration?

Usually, it was Remus who would shake them awake, ready with both reproach and tall glasses of sober-up potion.

But neither Sirius nor Remus were at Hogwarts, and there had been no Quidditch game the previous night. Remus and Peter had gone home for the Christmas holidays, as usual. Sirius had gone home as well, at the demand of his mother. Christmas was one of the few holidays the Black family celebrated together. James, whose parents were dead, was the only seventh year Gryffindor still at school.

He pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall, wincing as pain exploded behind his eyes.

He was pathetic. Truly pathetic. Drinking himself into unconsciousness on Christmas, alone! Didn't that beat all?

He crawled over to his bedside table and rummaged around in the drawers, finally coming up with a small bottle of sober-up that he kept there for emergencies. It was half empty, but at least it would keep McGonagall from pouncing on him when he went down to breakfast.

He drained the bottle, then stood up shakily.

His knees buckled as a jolt of pain stabbed into him.

It wasn't his head this time. His breath hitched in panic as he reached a hand down his shorts.

His fingers grazed painful bruises on his hips and buttocks. He probed farther, and cried out in pain.

His fingers came away sticky with half-dried semen.

"Oh God..." James whispered.

The sound of his own voice scared him into action. He bolted for the bathroom, ignoring the pain.

He stripped in front of the mirror.

It was horrible sight. Bruises, some of them resembling handprints, lined his torso and hips. There was a bite on his shoulder. And in the back --

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh--" A whimper of frustration and fear broke loose, and James crammed his fist into his mouth to silence it before it had a chance to explode into uncontrollable sobbing.

He stood like that for what felt like hours, trying to control himself. If he let himself crumble to the floor and allowed the tears of agony that were prickling his eyes to come, he didn't think he would ever get up again.

Finally, he took a step back, turned away from the mirror, and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bathtub.

He had to think.

He held his head, which still ached dully despite the potion, and thought harder than he had in all his years at Hogwarts.

He couldn't tell anyone; that was the first thing he thought of.

He couldn't let anyone know what had happened. He had to get rid of the evidence.

It helped, just a little, to settle on a course of action.

He opened the secret panel under the sink, and took out the box of medical supplies they kept there for Remus. There were salves for bruises, oil for strained muscles, healing fluid for cuts, potions for pain...

It was slow going, but he managed to apply the medication to his many injuries. Soon, most of them had healed to the point of being invisible to anyone who didn't look closely. Clothes would hide the rest.

He still hurt. There was pain inside him, where he couldn't reach. But it didn't feel like an abrasion, and there was no blood, so he figured the soreness would go away on its own, eventually.

He bathed.

What he was trying to wash away couldn't be removed with soap and water, and he knew that in his rational mind, but he still turned the water on as hot as it would go, and scrubbed his skin almost raw.

He had to return to the dorm room nude, carrying the clothes he had taken off.

He couldn't burn everything. Those were his best robes, and he had worn them only once, to Christmas dinner the previous night.

He folded them, crammed them into a paper bag, and stowed the bag out of sight in his trunk. Maybe later he could have them washed. Just then he didn't want to even look at them.

He dressed, choosing a long-sleeved turtleneck to hide the still lightly visible bite mark on his neck. Then he turned his attention to the dorm room.

It was a mess.

He didn't want to sort through it. He didn't want to look at any of it.

He gathered up everything, carried the lot downstairs, and threw it into the fireplace. One Incendio charm later there was nothing left but ash and charred glass. The house-elves would dispose of it.

The breakfast bell rang just as he finished.

There was nothing to do but leave Gryffindor Tower. If he didn't show up, someone might be sent to find him.

The corridors were empty. James walked as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run, avoiding shadows and open doorways.

He was the last one to enter the Great Hall, and everyone was already eating by the time he took his seat.

He ignored his food. His stomach would never hold it. Besides, there was only one thought on his mind.

Which one?

There were very few students staying at school over the holidays. These days, everyone wanted to spend as much time as they possibly could with their families.

There were even fewer older students. He saw a few seventh, sixth, and fifth year Hufflepuffs -- all girls, a scrawny sixth year Ravenclaw, a sixth year Slytherin -- a girl, and three fourth year Gryffindors. The rest were all small fry. James didn't believe that a third or even a fourth year student could have done it. Not even a Slytherin. But even then, the oldest male Slytherin he saw was a second year.

With dread, he turned toward the staff table.

Was it Hagrid, the groundskeeper?

No, or James would be dead right now, not just sore and bruised.

Filch, the caretaker?

James almost gagged at the thought.

Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures instructor?

No, he was still hobbling around on his newly re-attached leg, and his arms were both in casts.

Dumbledore?

That was just mad.

There were no other male professors remaining at Hogwarts over the holidays.

What did that mean? Filch seemed like the only likely suspect, but that was too monstrous to consider.

Someone had broken into the castle, then. That's what must have happened.

Dangerously close to completely losing it, James squeezed his eyes shut an effort to regain his composure.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he snapped at the Third Year sitting next to him.

She glared at him.

"Sorry."

Muttering angrily under her breath, she returned to her food.

James had had enough. He grabbed a few biscuits and sandwiches, stuffed them into his pocket, and walked out of the Hall, breaking into a run as soon as he knew he was out of sight of the staff table.

He just wanted to be alone.

He returned to Gryffindor Tower, but just sitting in the common room gave him a dreadful hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. The dorm room was too close.

He wondered how he would ever sleep there again, after what had happened.

Or if he would ever sleep again at all.

Grabbing his Invisibility Cloak, he headed for the library, knowing that no one would be there.

He spent the rest of the day curled up in a large armchair in the farthest corner, his Cloak thrown over himself, staring at the same page of Hogwarts: A History, without seeing a single word.

He skipped lunch. No one came after him. Or maybe they did, and just hadn't tried looking for him at the library. He didn't care either way, as long as it meant not having to talk to anyone.

He went to dinner, picked listlessly at his food, and left early.

He didn't want to go back to Gryffindor Tower. Especially not when it was getting dark. No one would be there, except a few younger students.

He still had his Cloak, and he slipped it over his head and wandered the corridors until curfew.

Finally, he had to go back.

At the last minute, as he was climbing the long staircase up to the Seventh Year boys dorm, he ducked into the empty Fifth Year dorm instead.

He closed the door. He considered locking it, but decided he didn't dare.

Then he checked the windows, locking each one. He didn't care if the room was stuffy. For good measure, he took a length of string, stretched it between two nails so that opening either window would break it, and transfigured a dozen marbles into extra-loud jingle bells, which he tied to each end of the string.

He climbed into one of the beds without undressing, and arranged the Invisibility Cloak over himself.

He didn't think there would be a bed check that night. And if there was, and someone raised a stink about him not being in his dorm room, he would hear it and sneak into the bathroom, pretending he'd been there the whole time. If anyone wondered why he wasn't using the Prefect's Bathroom, since he was Head Boy, he would claim he had forgotten the password.

That settled, James tried to shut his eyes.

Was that a rustle in the wardrobe?

James' eyes popped open.

He had forgotten to check the wardrobes!

Wand held out in front of him, he approached the first one, throwing open the doors and leaping back.

It was empty, aside from a few ugly shirts.

There were four more, and he repeated the process until he was sure each one was empty.

It was another hour before he finally drifted off to sleep, but even in his dreams he could not escape completely.

He dreamed of hands. Hands grabbing him. Hands pulling him into a dark wardrobe. Hands over his mouth, muffling his screams.

He never saw whom they belonged to.

He awoke drenched in sweat, and no less tired than when he had gone to bed.

He didn't know how he was going to get through that day. Or how he would get through the rest of the week before classes started again.

He wanted his friends desperately.

Oh, he knew he would never -- COULD never -- tell them what had happened to him.

Peter would be disgusted. He didn't tolerate homosexuality in any form.

Remus would stand by him, James thought, but he didn't want to lay that kind of burden on his friend. Remus had it tough enough as it was. His emotions were stretched thin.

And Sirius...

Sirius would want revenge. He wouldn't be quiet about it. He would take chances and dig around and bully people he thought might know something. And then everyone would find out...

He would just have to keep them from finding out. It was for their own good. No one should have to hear about something like that happening to one of their friends.

The breakfast bell rang as James was washing up, and he dragged himself down to the Great Hall.

Dumbledore made his endless announcements. The food tasted like sawdust.

James spent another day in the library, emerging only for meals.

He slept -- or tried to sleep -- in the Sixth Year dorm that night, curling up on a blanket on the floor because the beds had been stripped of their mattresses while the house-elves did a bit of spring cleaning.

The rest of the holidays passed in a bleary haze. Sleep-deprived and almost ill from a constant feeling of apprehension, James could barely keep himself from falling apart.

The train arrived late Sunday afternoon. Remus jumped off before it had even come to a complete halt.

"Hey James!" he called, running up to him. "Help us out. Peter conked himself out cold with a Beater training stick." Then he got close enough to see James more clearly, and skidded to a halt, his grin vanishing. "James? Is something the matter? You look terrible --"

"Thanks," James replied, putting a good dose of sarcasm into his voice. "That's nice to hear."

Remus continued to frown.

"I've been ill," James said. "Ate something that didn't agree with me. Where did you say Peter was?"

"Sirius is with him," Remus said, leading the way back to the train car. "We didn't think we could carry him out by ourselves, along with all our stuff. But if you're not feeling well..."

"No, I'm fine. Pomfrey gave me something," James lied, wishing Remus would just drop it.

Remus did drop it, but James had to go through the same conversation twice more -- once when they reached the compartment where Sirius was standing watch over an unconscious Peter, and again when they finally managed to bring Peter around.

"Really," he finally said, "I just didn't get enough sleep last night! I'm perfectly fine!"

"You've lost weight," Peter commented, looking envious. He himself looked like he had packed on at least two stone, most of it on his buttocks, chin, and around his middle.

"Did I?" James asked, trying to sound disinterested. "I skipped a few meals while I was feeling nauseous."

Fortunately, by then they had reached the Great Hall, and no further conversation was possible as Dumbledore launched into announcements.

The dorm room did not look so forbidding with the four of them there. James allowed himself to relax slightly. He could do this. He could sleep in his own bed.

"How was your holiday?" Remus asked, beginning to unpack his bag.

"Terrible," James admitted. He didn't want to lie more than necessary. "It was dull. And then I got ill and it was all downhill from there. How about you?"

"Well, Sirius and I spent the past four days together. Went to a Muggle football game, a Three Witches In Blue concert, and spent more than we could afford in Diagon Alley."

"You and Sirius?" James asked, frowning slightly.

Remus looked at him oddly. "Sirius ran away from home again. But you know that. Are you sure you're feeling all right? Did Pomfrey say you should rest?"

James nodded. He was feeling like he was missing something, but was honestly too tired to want to prolong the conversation.

"I think you should go to bed, then. You shouldn't have been out in this weather, and we shouldn't have made you help carry luggage. If you relapse --"

"I won't," James cut him off. "Really, Remus, I appreciate this, but I'm fine. I just need some sleep, that's all."

Remus watched critically until James got in bed.

"Happy?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

Remus gave him a lopsided smile. "Go to sleep, you. We have classes starting bright and early. Good night."

"Good night, James," Peter echoed from his corner. He was still fiddling with his Beater stick.

James couldn't help noticing how quiet Sirius was. He hadn't said a word since the train. "Good night all," he said, realizing Sirius wasn't going to say anything.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sirius duck his head.

He would have to figure out what was going on with him. But later. Just then he wanted to fall asleep while the lights were still on and his friends were talking around him.

* * *

The start of classes was a relief. Busy with homework and Quidditch, James had less time to spend alone with this own thoughts.

Still, as the first week after the holidays wore on, he was astounded by the change that had taken place in his life.

Quidditch no longer seemed important.

The upcoming NEWTs didn't seem important either, though he studied so diligently in his efforts to escape thoughts of That Night -- as he now called the incident -- that even Remus was impressed.

In fact, very few things seemed to mean anything to him anymore.

He supposed he was falling into a depression. He didn't know how to get out of it.

He did notice, though, that Sirius seemed to be avoiding him.

"What's with Sirius?" he asked Remus during a joint Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Sirius did not take the class.

Remus shrugged, looking uncomfortable as Kettleburn's eyes turned toward them reproachfully.

"He's avoiding me," James continued, lowering his voice.

"I noticed," Remus whispered back. "Did something happen between you?"

"Mr Lupin, do you have something to share with the class?"

Remus turned red. "N-no, sir," he mumbled, dropping his head.

"It was my fault!" James said. "I asked him something."

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Do not interrupt again."

"Bloody git," James muttered under his breath when Kettleburn turned away.

Remus had moved several steps away from him, and would not meet his eyes for the rest of the lesson.

James' next class was Herbology, and it was his chance to be alone with Sirius for the first time that week.

As it turned out, Sirius was waiting for him. He looked nervous, fiddling with the ties of his apron.

"Hey," he said, as soon as James reached the table set up in the center of the greenhouse. "We should talk."

James nodded, picking up an apron and gloves from the large pile. "Sure."

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it. He picked up a pot and began to fill it with fresh dirt, avoiding looking at James.

"Er... Did I miss something?" James asked.

"No," Sirius said, looking sideways at him, then quickly looking away. "So... uh..." His voice trailed off, and there was an uncomfortable pause. "About the holidays, James, I --"

James sighed. This again. "I had a terrible time," he said shortly, starting to work on his own row of seedlings that needed to be repotted. "I told you that already. Can we just talk about something else?"

Twin splotches of red appeared on Sirius cheeks. He ducked his head, shoulders hunched.

James sighed. Now he had hurt his best friend. If only everything didn't remind him of That Night! Even Peter's description of his mother's cooking had been painful to listen to.

They worked in silence for a short time. Then Sirius dropped the clippers he was using to trim roots, and turned to face him. "James, what happened this Christmas --"

"Look!" James exploded, unable to bear it. "I don't want to talk about it! Just drop it!"

Sirius paled. Then, turning his back on James, he began to stuff seedlings violently into their pots. "Fine," he said. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

James swallowed. Why was everything so difficult? Was he doing such a terrible job of faking normalcy? "Sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. So, how did you end up at Remus' house, anyway?"

Sirius turned toward him, eyes blazing. "If you're not going to talk about it, then I won't either!"

Ripping off his gloves and apron and leaving James and the rest of the class to stare after him in mute shock, he stalked out of the greenhouse.

* * *

It was two days before he and Sirius spoke to each other again. By then, the silence was an almost excruciating weight on James' chest.

"I'm sorry, James," Sirius said out of the blue as they were getting ready for bed.

"It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I got upset. Let's just forget it ever happened."

A slight frown crossed Sirius' face, but he nodded. "You're right. Let's just forget it."

"Friends again?"

"Friends," Sirius said, tossing him a chocolate frog from his stash.

"Finally," Remus muttered from the next bed.

James and Sirius exchanged a smile.

Things were more or less back to normal after that.

James was still having trouble sleeping in the dorm room, but naps in the library helped. If his frequent bad moods and occasional angry outbursts concerned his friends, they didn't press him to tell them what was wrong.

"Is someone following us?" Remus asked, glancing behind them as they walked from History of Magic to Transfiguration. Remus had been in the lead, and had taken a shortcut down an abandoned and badly lighted corridor.

James realized his paranoia was showing. "Thought I saw Snape," he said, shrugging. "Guess not."

Remus rolled his eyes, the way he often did when the subject was Snape. "As far as I'm concerned he's welcome to follow us around. He isn't hurting anything."

James snorted, but that day he wasn't even up to arguing over Snape.

His head ached.

His breakfast had ended up in the toilet bowl -- and he had been lucky to make it that far before his stomach turned itself inside out.

He had missed lunch because he fell asleep at the end of Divination, and since none of his friends had that class with him, no one bothered to wake him. He had woken up in the dark room, panicked, and ended up banging on the door and screaming himself hoarse until a Second Year opened it and pointed out that it had not been locked.

Sirius had saved him a sandwich, but it hadn't been enough to drive back the hunger.

The hunger was almost always there now. He ate more than Peter, for Merlin's sake!

He was afraid it was starting to show. Charbert, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, had commented rudely on his expanding midsection. Even Remus had tried offering him fruit salad instead of the porkchops and peanut butter he asked for when it was Remus' turn to raid the kitchens.

Porkchops and peanut butter. That was another thing. He wanted the oddest things these days. Some of them downright disgusting.

He decided it was another symptom of depression.

"James?"

James startled out of his thoughts, realizing Remus had been speaking. "What? Sorry, I zoned out."

"I asked if you had a date for the Valentine's Day Ball."

"Oh... No. Not yet. You?"

"No. I probably won't go."

James shrugged. "Wish I could avoid it."

As Head Boy he had to attend all school functions.

He would have to ask some girl, and go, and pretend to have a good time.

Too bad he couldn't take Sirius. Or even Remus. But then, even if they didn't hex him to hell for asking, he would probably be kicked out of Hogwarts, and it would be a bloody pity to be kicked out of school a few months before his NEWTs.

His eyes came to rest on Lily Evans, who was sitting two desks away, to his right.

They'd become friends that year. Maybe he would ask her.

* * *

James scowled at his reflection in the Prefect's Bathroom's full-length mirror. He had stripped off his sweat-soaked robes and shirt, and was attempting to wash up at one of the sinks.

To have a Care of Magical Creatures class on the morning of the Ball was madness.

He was drying his hair when a wave of nausea hit, for the second time that day. He lunged for the nearest toilet.

He only noticed that he was not alone when his retching subsided into dry heaves. Someone was holding back his hair and rubbing his back comfortingly.

He turned and saw that it was Lily.

"Are you all right, James?"

Too miserable to lie, James shook his head. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"This happens often?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Almost daily," James said, sitting up and leaning his heated face against the cool wall. "I suppose I should go to Pomfrey."

"Why haven't you?"

James shrugged. He didn't know why he hadn't. Maybe because he thought the nausea was yet another effect of the attack, and he was afraid Pomfrey would see through his pretences and demand to know what was wrong. She was a professional, after all.

Then he thought of something. "Hey, Lily, you're studying to be a mediwitch, aren't you?"

"Yes. Madam Pomfrey has already agreed to help me find an apprenticeship, once I pass my NEWTs."

"Then you can figure out what's wrong with me!"

Lily frowned. "I shouldn't, really. I could be wrong, and --"

"Oh, just do it. You know you can. You've been at the top of our class since First Year. Besides," he said wryly, "you know Pomfrey will want to keep me overnight, and then you're out of a date for the Ball."

Still frowning slightly, Lily nodded. "All right. But if I find anything, you're going straight to the infirmary."

James watched as she took out her wand and waved it in some complicated pattern, chanting softly in Latin. A pale pink light -- more like wispy fog, really -- emerged from the wand's tip and floated towards him.

"Hmm," Lily said, her brow furrowing. "Turn around, James. I want to see your back."

James turned to the wall obediently. "It's not my back that's giving me problems."

Lily seemed to be taking a terribly long time with it. James' knees began to hurt from kneeling on the stone floor.

"Almost done?"

"Oh, James..."

He didn't like the sound of that.

"What?" he demanded, turning to look at her.

Her face was ashen.

Why was she staring at him like that?

"What's wrong?"

"James, you're pregnant..."

James blinked. "Huh?"

"PREGNANT," Lily said, speaking in that annoying, extra clear tone that she used when explaining lessons to people who hadn't paid attention in class and now wanted her to help them.

James stared at her. He wasn't sure where the joke lay.

She came closer, putting a hand out and touching his stomach. "About two months, I think. Maybe three."

James pulled back angrily. "Stop it! I think I have enough on my mind right now without some stupid joke --"

"James," she said, grabbing his hand. "Have I ever played a joke on you? Or on anyone?"

James looked into her honest, open face. There was no deception there, just concern. No, she had never done anything this cruel before, not to him and not to anyone he knew. Not even to Snape, though these days she seemed to hate him as much as anyone did.

He looked down at his stomach. Maybe it wasn't as flat as it used to be, but...

"I'm sorry," Lily said, stepping back and letting go of his hand. "I wish I hadn't just blurted it out like that."

James cleared his throat, swallowing the gigantic lump that had lodged there. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Lily, what am I going to do?"

Lily frowned. "Well, isn't there a father? Is it one of your friends?"

James shook his head. He couldn't lie to her, somehow. It was too late to lie, anyway. "No. There isn't. I mean, I don't know who it was."

She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard to be... well, you know. People can be such bastards."

James dropped his head. He hated pity more than anything.

"Is there anything I can do?"

James looked up hopefully. Not counting Snape, Lily was at the top of their Potions class. "Do you know of anything that will... you know... get rid of it?"

Lily's eyes widened. "James! It's completely past that point now! Don't even think about doing something crazy. You could end up killing yourself!"

"Not a bad idea," James mumbled. At that moment, he felt he really would be better off dead.

"Don't say that." She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. "Look, we'll figure something out. I'll help you."

"How, Lily? My life is ruined! It's all over! This is like being branded queer for life! I'll never get a job, my friends will never speak to me again, the Ministry is --"

"The Ministry," Lily exclaimed suddenly, hitting the rim of the sink with her fist. "Damn it! James, the Ministry will --"

"I KNOW, LILY!" James yelled. "What do you think I'm saying?"

His voice echoed in the small room. Then there was silence.

"They could take away the baby, too."

"They can have it," James muttered darkly, disgust washing over him as he thought about how the thing had been conceived.

"James... you don't mean that. It's your own child."

James scowled.

"It's a gift, James! Just think, there's people who can't ever have babies!" She looked down, biting her lip. "Like me. You have no idea how awful it is, hearing about people murdering or giving away their babies, when I would give anything to have one." Then she shook her head firmly, sitting up straighter. "Anyway, this isn't about me. This is about you, and what you have to do now. You have options. Let's just think this through."

"What options?" James asked suspiciously. To him the situation seemed entirely bleak. He didn't dare get his hopes up.

"Well..." Lily tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "You could get married, for one thing. To a girl, I mean."

"How in bloody hell would that help? I'm still the one knocked up!"

"The baby could be transferred into her. I know it's not the best solution, considering you don't like girls -- you don't, do you?"

"Well, I..." James stopped. Maybe he should keep his options open. "I like some girls. I mean, I've been in love with you, haven't I? But seriously, Lily, who would want to marry me?"

An odd look came over Lily's face. "I would do it."

"WHAT?"

"My parents are both dead now. My older sister got all the money. I have nothing. When I leave Hogwarts, I'll be out on the street without a knut to my name." She drew in a long breath. "Otis Peterson asked me to marry him. I haven't said yes -- I told him I was thinking it over -- but I don't see what choice I have." She picked up James' hand and held it between both of hers. "I don't even like him, and I do like you. We're friends. Even if that's all we'll be, it would be nice, I think."

"And I have money," James put in.

"It won't hurt," she admitted, shrugging. "I want to attend the Mediwitch Academy, to become a real nurse. Being an apprentice can only teach me so much. I would never amount to more than an assistant. And, don't forget, there's the baby. If I marry Otis, I will never have a child of my own. What do you say, James? Will you think about it?"

James did think about it. It took him less than a minute to realize this was an opportunity he couldn't let pass. If the Ministry got involved... and it would...

"You said there is a way to put the baby into you?"

"A spell, yes. I think it's still early enough to do it."

"And then we'll tell everyone I got you pregnant? Won't they make you leave Hogwarts?"

Lily laughed. "No, no. There's no reason to have the baby while at school. Really, the female body is much better suited for carrying babies. There's a spell that will delay fetal development."

"Huh?"

"Stop the baby from growing, just until... oh, honestly, hadn't you paid any attention in Health Studies?"

James shook his head sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I don't know how you manage to do so well in your classes," Lily said, rolling her eyes. "All right, I'll explain it. The pregnancy can be stopped for up to three years. It's best not to wait that long, of course, but one or two years is perfectly safe. Then, the spell will wear off and the pregnancy will continue again."

"And you can do this spell?"

Lily's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I don't even know if I could transfer the fetus... Oh, there's so much to consider! We would need at least a dozen potions, and I would have to steal supplies from Madam Pomfrey's storage cupboard, and --"

"In other words, you know you can do it," James said, slowly letting out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

James hesitated.

Was he completely out of his head to even consider this?

But what choice did he have?

Besides, he would pay Lily in full for her services. She could have his entire fortune, for all he cared. Just as long as she got him out of this mess.

"I do like you, James, you know," Lily said softly. "It hurt when I realized you weren't interested in me."

James shook his head. "I was interested. I just gave up. You know what? I want to marry you. Sooner or later I would be expected to marry anyway. I would much rather have it be you. We do get along splendidly, don't we? And if you accept my abnormali--"

"Don't call it that. There's nothing wrong with being that way!"

"Fine," James said. "As long as it's not a problem for you."

"It isn't."

"Then let's do it."

Lily grinned from ear to ear. Then she put her hands on her hips. "Why James Potter, are you proposing to me on the bathroom floor?"

* * *

"Sorry, I can't. I'm taking Lily Evans to Hogsmeade."

Sirius froze. The Marauder's Map fluttered out of his hands. "Say what? We've been planning this for days! It's our last chance to get Snape before we leave Hogwarts!"

"I'm sorry. But there's this thing, at the Three Broomsticks, and she wants to go. I know it's short notice. She only told me just now."

"What thing?"

"Some kind of all-night dance. I'm not sure exactly."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Remus pulled on his arm. "Come on, Sirius. Give it up. This was a horrid idea to begin with."

Sirius' jaw snapped shut. He narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he spat. "Whatever. Go. Enjoy yourself."

"I will," James said, his own anger rising. "I don't know what your problem is."

Sirius muttered something under his breath, wrenched his arm out of Remus' grasp, and stalked out of the room.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was jealous," James joked to Remus, though Sirius' words had hurt terribly.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You have been spending a lot of time with Lily lately. You know how Sirius gets. I'm just afraid he'll do something stupid, like go after Snape on his own." He paused, wrinkling his nose. "Not that I think it's better for the two of you to gang up on him. It was a horrid idea, James."

"Let's not argue about Snape. It's our last weekend before NEWTs! A week from now we'll be leaving Hogwarts..."

"Yes," Remus said, sounding a little sad. "I still can't believe it."

"Oh, we'll still be best of friends. My flat is only a block from Sirius', you know... Say, any word on your aunt letting you board?"

Remus grinned. "I meant to tell you earlier. Sirius invited me to live with him. He's got that big flat, and he can't cook worth beans or work even a simple scouring charm... so..."

"That's really great, Remus. See? We'll be neighbors. We'll even get Peter out of his mum's clutches once in a while."

The clock chimed nine, and James startled, looking around for his second-best robes. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry.

"Try under the quilt," Remus said, already moving off to his favorite chair by the window and picking up a thick book.

"Thanks."

"Have a good time tonight."

"I will," James said, waving to his friend as he left the dorm room.

He did have a good time.

Lily looked gorgeous in a lacy green dress that matched her eyes, and they danced so many times that he lost count. He could feel jealous looks from the crowd every time Lily pressed close to him or put her cheek down on his shoulder.

They made a good-looking couple, he supposed, catching their reflection in one of the mirrors.

Lily was kind, and a superb witch, and she accepted him the way he was. She would make an excellent wife and a good mother.

He had accepted the child. Now that he wasn't carrying it, he could pretend it was truly his and Lily's, and not tainted by his unknown attacker. He was its father, and she had it growing inside her. It was exactly the way things were supposed to be.

Lily insisted he would love it when it was born, and he tried to make himself believe that. Maybe he would. He could teach it Quidditch, if it was a boy. If it was a girl, Lily could look after it.

He'd asked her what would happen if it didn't come out looking like either of them.

"Don't worry," she had said, smiling. "You have black hair. It's almost guaranteed the baby's hair will be dark as well. And I know this wonderful little spell that will make a baby's eyes any color we want. It's permanent if we do it soon after the birth."

It seemed settled. They would marry as soon as they left Hogwarts. They would wait a little while -- maybe until fall the following year -- and then Lily would release the spell that kept the fetus from growing.

"I always dreamed of having a summer baby," Lily had said, sighing happily. "And think how convenient! The child can start Hogwarts as soon as he or she turns eleven. Not like poor Martha, who was born on the fifth of October and had to wait until she was nearly twelve."

* * *

"You're a hard man to find," James said, sitting down beside Sirius in the research section of the Wizarding Library of London. "Since when do you spend a perfectly lovely April afternoon cooped up in a library?"

"Since I've gone for Auror training," Sirius said irritably. He tossed aside the thick book he had been reading. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to find you... and ask you something important."

A slight shadow passed over Sirius' face. "Oh? What is it?"

"I need to borrow your liver."

Sirius blinked. He didn't even crack a smile.

"I'm joking, Sirius. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh!" Sirius laughed, a little too loudly. "Sorry, I guess I'm just preoccupied."

"Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, I'm listening. What did you want to ask me?"

James took a deep breath. "I'm getting married, Sirius. I want you to be my best man."

The last traces of Sirius' smile vanished from his face.

There was a long silence.

"Sirius? Are you all right?"

The smile Sirius forced onto his face was truly gruesome. "It's a bit sudden, that's all. I would be honored to be in your wedding."

"Really? Because you don't look that excited."

Sirius wouldn't meet his eyes. "Well, it's your place to be excited, James. I'm supposed to be mourning the loss of my best friend to some --" He paused, frowning. "Who are you marrying, anyway?"

"Lily Evans."

"I didn't know you were still seeing her after we left school."

James shrugged. "I guess I never mentioned it. We've all been so busy this past year."

There was another silence, and James could see Sirius was struggling with himself.

"I'm happy for you."

"Thank you."

Another silence. Sirius looked anywhere but at James, his fingers absently picking at the binding of his book.

"Sirius, I --" James began.

"Why me?" Sirius interrupted suddenly. "Why me and not Remus or Peter?"

James scrunched up his nose. "What do you mean why you? You're my best friend. I love Remus and Peter to pieces, but you're the one I want by my side when I take my vows."

Sirius' face flushed crimson, then paled just as fast.

"Look, if you don't want to do it --"

"No! I do!" Sirius held up his hands. "I do, really! It's just a bit sudden, and after what happened with us I..." His voice trailed off, and he looked at James, biting his lip. "James? I know you don't want to talk about what happened between us, but I... I just..."

"What?" James asked, frowning.

"Well, the Christmas holidays," Sirius said, looking down at the carpet. "I... I thought after that horrible note I left you, and... well... when you wouldn't talk about it at all, I thought..."

The mention of Christmas sent a chill down James' back. "What note?"

"That awful, awful note I stuck in your pocket like a coward!" Sirius cried, dropping his head into his hands. "I don't know what I was thinking, James. I didn't think you would ever forgive me."

James patted Sirius' shoulder. He had no idea what Sirius was talking about, but if his friend was upset... "It's all right, Sirius. I was never angry with you. Really."

Sirius looked up hopefully. "Still best friends after that?"

"Of course," James said, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry about it."

"You know, I'd really thought you --" Sirius stopped, shaking his head. "But I guess not, if you're with Lily. I must have been out of my head. You're right. Let's just not talk about it."

James frowned, but Sirius had launched into a barrage of questions about the wedding, and he forced himself to focus.

* * *

He returned to his flat late that night. Sirius had insisted they tell Remus and Peter together, and that had led to a rowdy celebration at the Leaky Cauldron, eventually expanding to include most of their old school friends.

Lily was already asleep, and he didn't want to wake her. The effort of keeping the pregnancy spellbound for so long was draining her strength, and she deserved whatever rest she could get.

He fixed himself a cup of hot chocolate, picked up the paper, and tried to ignore the terrible nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

But it was no use.

His trunk was in the cupboard in the front hall, and James found himself kneeling in front of it, rummaging around as quietly as possible.

The bag was at the very bottom, covered with a layer of old school essays, books, broken quills, and gum wrappers.

The robes reeked of stale beer and sex. The smell sickened him.

He held his breath, reaching quickly into each pocket in turn.

His fingers closed around a scrap of parchment.

His heart hammered in his chest as he drew it out.

He shoved the robes back in the bag and shut the trunk's lid. He slumped against it for support as he raised his trembling hand to hold the note up to the faint light coming through the kitchen doorway.

"James,

I don't know how to face you after last night, so I'm running like the coward that I am.

It was such a perfect evening, James. I thought if I ever told you how I feel about you, you wouldn't even want to be friends anymore. And there you were, telling me you felt the same way... I lost my head. I never thought it would lead to this, and I should have put a stop to it. I knew how much you'd had to drink. You probably didn't mean any of it, and now I am the fool... no, worse than that, because I led you into something you will hate me for.

I am so sorry, James! There's nothing I can do to make it up to you (but if there is, please, please tell me what it is). I will beg on my knees for your forgiveness, if you will let me.

S.B."

James dropped the note.

His body followed it to the floor, and he found himself clawing at the carpet, hot, wretched tears drenching his face as choked sobs wracked his entire body.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Exhausted, he rolled onto his back.

Sirius was the father of his child.

He hadn't been raped.

He had, somehow, found the courage to admit to Sirius how he felt.

And Sirius had returned those feelings, and they had created a child together, and then he --

And then he had treated Sirius like dirt for the remainder of the school year.

Not purposely, of course, but his depression and later his preoccupation with his pregnancy had made him far from a good friend.

Worse, he had forgotten their night together. Forgotten the searing joy he must have felt upon finding out that his friend didn't condemn him, and in fact accepted and returned his feelings.

Now it was too late. He had ruined everything.

Sirius thought he was straight. He was getting married, for Merlin's sake! The wedding couldn't be called off now, what with Lily --

James sucked in a breath, barely containing a tortured moan.

Lily...

"James? Is that you?"

Lily was carrying the child now.

"Yes," he called hoarsely, not wanting her to get out of bed and find him like that.

He heard the bedsprings creak, and her soft footsteps padding across the bedroom floor.

He forced himself to get up off the floor and rubbed the back of his hand across his burning eyes.

Lily appeared in the doorway in her nightshirt. "Is everything all right? I thought I heard --"

"Everything's fine," James said, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. "I stubbed my toe on my trunk hanging up my cloak."

Lily sniffed. "We have lights, you know. You might use them, instead of sneaking about in the dark."

"Sorry."

"It's all right. I was just dozing, anyway. Do I smell cocoa?"

James nodded. "I made some. Will you pour me a cup? I'll be a moment. I want to get this trunk out of the way."

"Sure."

He watched as she disappeared into the kitchen, and let out a shuddering breath.

The interruption had been good for him. He no longer felt in danger of crumpling into a heap on the floor and screaming himself into madness.

The note was a soggy mess pressed into his sweaty palm. He crumpled it into a tight ball and shoved it deep into his pocket.

What was, was. He couldn't change it. But he could try to make it right, somehow.

He would make Sirius the child's godfather.

Lily would understand. She knew the truth about him, after all, and had still agreed to marry him and have his child.

Maybe in time he could approach Sirius and...

"Are you coming, James? Your cocoa is getting cold."

He gave the trunk a hard push back into the cupboard, and closed the door, leaning against it and shutting his eyes for a moment to compose himself.

"James?"

He opened his eyes, pushed away from the door, and wiped away the fresh tears that had spilled down his cheeks. "I'll be right there, Lily."


End file.
